


Fade To Black

by TwixMix13 (Tacopony)



Series: A Promise [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amputation, Angst and Feels, Body Horror, Fluff, M/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Trespasser DLC, Trespasser Spoilers, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5550362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tacopony/pseuds/TwixMix13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A more in-depth look at the major events of Trespasser— what the Inquisitor is thinking and feeling, and what happens during those fade-to-black moments. This is a result of unresolved feels due to Trespasser and Dorian, as well as frustration over unanswered questions that I decided to answer myself. Early dialogue is taken from in-game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade To Black

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me @ justjokering.tumblr.com :)

_Wet stone, char, old books, and blood, mixing, mingled, magic in the air, broken like the elaborate structures that littered the area around them._

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It was getting worse. Every time he used the Anchor or got close to an elvhen artifact, whether dispelling enemies or opening the doors controlled by elvhen magic, a white hot pain seared deeper and deeper into his hand and was growing further up his arm by the minute. And that wasn’t the only thing; Lavellan had left Josephine to deal with the exalted council, a political mistake, but one he could afford to make. She clearly felt differently.

“Do you know what this has cost us with Orlais and Ferelden? They are planning to dismantle us _as we speak!”_ Josephine shouted, not truly knowing how raised her voice was. Lavellan didn’t want to deal with this. “And perhaps they are right.”

 _How could she make such an absurd—_ his thoughts were cut off; white hot _burning,_ the skin-crackling, _boiling_ heat of dragon fire set his hand aflame. The feeling of ripping flesh tore up his arm and left glowing green chasms in its wake. The Inquisitor cried out in complete agony, his knees buckled underneath the weight of the pain. It lasted seconds, but felt like minutes, and his council gathered around as it began to subside, looking at him expectantly.

“Ah shit! Damn it! We save Ferelden, and they’re angry! We save Orlais, and they’re angry! We closed the Breach, _twice._ And my own hand wants to kill me. Could one thing in this fucking world just stay fixed?!” He was done; done with the politics, done with the exalted council, done with his _fucking hand._ He sighed, attempted to compose himself, felt a pang of remorse from his outburst. “I _need_ to get to the Darvaarad. You all can fight amongst yourselves once I’m…” _Dead?_ “…once I’m back.”

*

Not long after, he was stepping through the Eluvian, returning to the fade-touched library. Dorian joined him, along with the Iron Bull, and Cassandra, the new Divine. The Inquisitor attempted to clear his mind of the exalted council, focusing on the task at hand as he walked forcibly towards the Eluvian that would lead him to the Darvaarad.

His thoughts were interrupted as Bull began to talk over the rush of water cascading down the ruins into the abyss. He stopped, straining to hear him. “Red told us what happened with your hand.”

 _Shit._ Why Leliana? Now they would _worry._ He hadn’t expected her to tell everyone about the Anchor, he didn’t want them to worry about him, especially—

“Why didn’t you say something?” Dorian began, and Lavellan’s heart sank. He looked to floating structures, searching for an answer, unable to turn around and face him. “I could have… I don’t know, something!” Dorian’s voice cracked; he couldn’t _believe_ the Inquisitor hadn’t told him. Why hadn’t he noticed sooner? The thought that this could be the end, the last time he saw his amatus, it crushed him. Regret for the time he had spent in Tevinter winnowed its way into his heart. Lavellan had asked him to stay, and he had… for a time. Dorian had not considered that the mark may actually be hurting him before now. The Inquisitor _never_ let on how much pain he was actually in, hiding behind a remarkable stoicism. Could it have been causing discomfort before the exalted council? The thought made him sick. Lavellan however would have never asked him to give up his homeland; it was part of who he was, and he’d never ask him to change for his own selfish reasons.

He spoke up, a solemn expression on his face as he stood in front of his party. “Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade the years we’ve had together for anything.” The Inquisitor then turned to look at him, a slight smile tickling his lips like a well-groomed moustache. “I love you.”

Dorian broke, his eyes watering as he shook his head and looked away, throwing his hands up in dismay and disbelief. “I knew you would break my heart, you bloody bastard!” Lavellan didn’t know what to say. If it was to end here, he didn’t want to cause Dorian any more pain.

“It’s been an honor kicking asses beside you all,” Bull said, the calmness of his words belying the implications. “Anaan.”

“Thank you… all of you.” Cassandra spoke with the serenity of the Divine, and the sincerity of a friend. They walked on silently, the heavy weight of what may come to pass looming over them.

*

 It took some time to get to the final temple. Warping through Eluvians and shooting holes into enemies— something he always enjoyed. His arrows never ran out, the magic imbued into the quiver making it impossible, always filling the empty space with the exact type of arrow he needed.

Lavellan stepped through the final Eluvian alone, not wanting to put his friends in any more danger. It was going to end here no matter what. And if what the Qunari leader had said was true… He had to find Solas.

*

Solas. He wore the garments of the ancient elvhen, a stark difference to the simple nomadic clothes Lavellan had associated him with. He asked him every question he could think of, trying to make sense of it all. Solas talked to him nonchalantly, like they were simply two friends catching up after returning from war.

Fen’Harel walked towards a massive Eluvian, stopping in front of it. “I will save the elven people, even if it means _this_ world must die.” Lavellan’s heart skipped a beat, his mind freezing on that sentence, Dorian immediately flashing in his mind. He couldn’t _fathom_ a life without him… Would Solas really do that? No... he wasn’t going to let _anything_ happen to Dorian, his friends, the people he’d met along the way, even if it meant killing Solas.

And everything he had said … could it be true? If so, all of this, _everything,_ was entirely his fault. So many died from the Breach, Haven, the battle with Corypheus, and it was _his_ orb. He gave it to Corypheus. _He_ created the veil. But the mark— it was getting worse, _killing him,_ and Solas knew it. Lavellan collapsed, his arm melting once more as he cried out in pain.

Fen'Harel knelt down, sitting eye-to-eye with the other elf. “Drawing you here will give me time to save you. At least for now…”

Lavellan looked at him from the position he’d taken on the ground, pain radiating through his arm into his body, having brought him to his knees. He attempted a sober expression despite everything. “If I live through this… I’m going to stop you.”

The Wolf stood slowly, gazing down at him solemnly. “I know.”

“Take my hand.” Lavellan did as he asked. Solas took it in a firm grip, white light emitting from his own hand as he controlled the anchor, opening a rift around the Inquisitor’s arm, the light of the veil consuming it. His hand and forearm turned an ethereal black, began to bubble green luminescence, looking like the boiling, oozing mess of the true Fade. But he felt nothing; the pain had ceased and all that remained were memories. The man he once knew as his friend turned, and walked towards the final Eluvian. “Live well, as time remains,” he said, not looking back as he stepped through, liquid glass bending around his form.

Lavellan sat there, watched his hand as it was swallowed by the Fade, not a single remnant remaining. His arm was gone from just above the elbow and below, only a rounded stump could be seen. Faint emerald scorch marks crawled up his arm, the armor below having cleanly vanished as well. He couldn’t move, just sat there, staring at the massive Eluvian in front of him. A slow sense of loss began to overtake him for so much more than simply his arm. He didn’t know how much time had passed before Bull came charging in, ready for a fight.

“Hey boss! What happened?” He stopped when he reached him, surveying the area, finally settling his gaze on him, and his arm. _“Shit.”_ Dorian and Cassandra followed suit, weapons at the ready as they caught up with the Inquisitor. The look on all three on their faces was nothing short of shock. Dorian covered his agape mouth with his hand, looking horrified— moreso from the fear that the loss of his arm was painful beyond measure. Lavellan met his gaze, tears streaming down his face that he hadn’t known he’d made.

He forced the nausea down, began to stand, or at least attempt to. It felt like it was still there, like if he tried hard enough his arm would catch his weight, help him up, _be_ there once more. But instead he swayed, staggered, trying to right himself with a single hand. “Maker, don’t just stand there, help me get him up!” Dorian shouted as he lurched forward, wrapping his arm around Lavellan’s torso and bearing the brunt of the weight on the side that now lacked support. Bull joined him, flanking his right side, and Cassandra hovered around them, unsure how to help.

Lavellan flailed, forcefully pushing them away from him. “I don’t fucking need _help,”_ he spat as he spun around to face them. The change in weight threw him off balance, calling him a liar as he tried to straighten himself, and failed. He hit the ground faster than he could anticipate, slamming his right shoulder into the wet stone. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back, stared up at nothing, and sighed. “Well this is going to ruin my entire week.”

Dorian smiled, his eyebrows pulling tightly together making him look placating. He returned to his side, hoisting him up. Bull and Cassandra took the lead, prepared to fight off any more Qunari or whatever might be thrown their way. Lavellan turned to him, taking in his determined expression, his beautiful face, brows knitted together with worry and endless thoughts. “Looks like we’ll have to postpone that trip,” he said, a somber expression on his face.

Dorian turned to him and scoffed, before looking back at the path ahead. “Oh don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily, amatus. I told you I wouldn’t forget a promise.” A smile curled onto his lips at that, his heart painfully skipping a beat.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated! This will be my first published work, despite having written plenty of items over the years. :)  
> Editing help provided by KazeChama.


End file.
